l--the most numerous and most respectable family in
England." When a compiler of pedigrees asked permission to insert Sydney's
arms in a County History, he replied, "I regret, sir, not to be able to
contribute to so valuable a work; but the Smiths never had any arms. They
invariably sealed their letters with their thumbs." In later life he
adopted the excellent and characteristic motto--_Faber meae fortunae_; and,
to some impertinent questions about his grandfather, he replied with
becoming gravity--"He disappeared about the time of the assizes, and we
asked no questions."
As a matter of fact, this maligned progenitor came to London from
Devonshire, established a business in Eastcheap, and left it to his two
sons, Robert and James. Robert Smith[2] made over his share to his brother
and went forth to see the world. This object he pursued, amid great
vicissitudes of fortune and environment, till in old age he settled down at
Bishop's Lydeard, in Somerset. He married Maria Olier, a pretty girl of
French descent, and by her had five children: Robert Percy--better known as
"Bobus"--born in 1770; Sydney in 1771; Cecil in 1772; Courtenay in 1773;
and Maria in 1774.
Sydney Smith was born on the 3rd of June; and was baptized on the 1st of
July in the parish church of Woodford. His infancy was passed at South
Stoneham, near Southampton. At the age of six he was sent to a private
school at Southampton, and on the 19th of July 1782 was elected a Scholar
of Winchester College. He stayed at Winchester for six years, and worked
his way to the top place in the school, being "Prefect of Hall" when he
left in 1788. Beyond these facts, Winchester seems to retain no impressions
of her brilliant son, in this respect contrasting strangely with other
Public Schools. Westminster knows all about Cowper--and a sorry tale it is.
Canning left an ineffaceable mark on Eton. Harrow abounds in traditions,
oral and written, of Sheridan and Byron, Peel and Palmerston. But
Winchester is silent about Sydney Smith.
Sydney, however, was not silent about Winchester. In one of the liveliest
passages of his controversial writings, he said:--
"I was at school and college with the Archbishop of Canterbury:[3]
fifty-three years ago he knocked me down with the chess-board for
checkmating him--and now he is attempting to take away my patronage. I
believe these are the only two acts of violence he ever committed in
his life."
Now Howley
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